


Good as New

by uro_boros



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, mentions of OCD behaviors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 01:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1180547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uro_boros/pseuds/uro_boros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I’m your commanding officer," he says steadily. "I’m twice your age." He wonders if Eren catches that those are two different things.</p><p>He does, of course. Eren leans back on his hands, looking at Levi through thick eyelashes. He sucks on his lip before he talks. “Okay.” The word comes out with a wet pop of noise as Eren releases his lip. “Which one of those things bothers you more?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good as New

_You are becoming something you don’t want to be_ , is the thought that strikes him. His hand itches the skin on the back of his neck until it hurts, until the abused skin turns red and hot, protesting. He keeps going; beneath the hurt is a deep sense of satisfaction that makes his toes curl in pleasure. 

Eren’s sitting on the edge of his perfectly-made bed, hesitant smiles and shy eyes. Levi can’t meet his gaze straight on—focuses slightly down and to the left, catches at the imperfection of a small snaggletooth that peeks out from under the curl of Eren’s lips. It’s worse that he notices it.

"This is an abuse of authority," Levi says. His neck throbs. 

Eren’s laugh is a startled noise with a gust of air. “Not really,” he teases, and the snaggletooth is more prominent when his grin is like this, bright and wide. Eren’s hands pluck at the tucked in fabric of his shirt until he pulls it loose.

Levi swallows. Stares at a mole tucked on Eren’s jawline, nearly hidden—it follows the bouncing of Eren’s breathing, the cadence of his words. Levi swallows again.

"I’m your commanding officer," he says steadily. "I’m twice your age." He wonders if Eren catches that those are two different things.

He does, of course. Eren leans back on his hands, looking at Levi through thick eyelashes. He sucks on his lip before he talks. “Okay.” The word comes out with a wet pop of noise as Eren releases his lip. “Which one of those things bothers you more?”

"Both," Levi answers truthfully. He moves his hand from his neck, to scrub across his face tiredly. There are red specks of blood under his nails from scratching too hard. 

"They don’t bother me," says Eren. 

Levi laughs a little hollowly. “Obviously,” he says dryly, allowing himself to flick his eyes down to the prominent bulge in Eren’s pants. Not for the first time, Levi wonders who decided tight pants were needed for the military uniform. It’s not an actual complaint.

Eren at least has the courtesy to look embarrassed now. He flushes, his legs shifting slightly as if to curl away from Levi’s sight. “Sorry,” he mumbles, and that’s when Levi remembers that Eren’s fifteen.

Fuck.

His hand goes to pick at his scalp.  

"Stop that," Eren says, frowning. He shifts his weight off his hands, eyebrows furrowed, chewing on his lip again. It’s much less sexual this time, but Levi’s eyes track the red swelling of his bottom lip. "You’re going to make yourself bleed." He sounds concerned. 

"Already did that," Levi murmurs, distracted. 

Eren inhales sharply, breaking Levi’s steady stare. “What?” His voice pitches high on the question. “Let me see,” he demands.

The thought comes back to him.  _You are becoming something you don’t want to be._ Abruptly, shame flushes itself down his body. His fingers still with a thick scab caught under his thumb nail. “No,” he snaps when Eren approaches him. “Fuck off.”

Eren doesn’t fuck off, but he also doesn’t get closer. He holds his hands out though, eyes big enough that Levi can see himself reflected in them. He stares long enough to see what picture he makes, short and neurotic, edges frayed, and then shifts his gaze again. Catches his gaze on Eren’s left tooth, on the mole on Eren’s jawline, flicks it down further to where Eren’s erection no longer makes a tent in Eren’s pants. 

Levi resists the effort to scratch again and hates himself for how sick it makes him feel. 

"I just want to see," Eren says soothingly. "We should probably wash out the scratches."

Levi cuts his eyes past Eren’s shoulder to stare at the wall. “I’ll do it later,” he says stiffly. “I know what to do.”

"Okay," Eren says. His voice is steady and unwavering. Fifteen, Levi reminds himself again, angry. He’s not handling this like a fifteen year old, another part says quietly. 

It’s probably the only reason Levi hasn’t kicked him out yet. 

The touch of Eren’s hand to his hip is startling. It’s through the thick, sturdy material of the uniform pants, a dull warmth. Levi flinches but doesn’t move away from it. 

Eren’s hand is cautious, a thumb stroking along the stiff seam that runs along the outside of the pants. He’s not standing close—the back of his knees still press against the edges of Levi’s neat bed and there’s space enough for a body between them, but Eren doesn’t move into it. “Is it alright if I stay?” he asks in a voice barely above a whisper. Levi’s not sure why he’s being so quiet, except that some stupid, sentimental part of Eren probably says the moment calls for it.

Like talking to a wounded animal. Levi’s surprised with himself when that thought isn’t accompanied by a sticky sense of self-loathing.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, huffing. “Do what you like,” he grumbles, tone not nearly as harsh as he wants it to be. Eren smiles, inching a step closer.

When Levi doesn’t move away, he inches another.

And then another.

And another, until he’s nosing curiously at Levi’s temple, a big hand anchoring on the small of Levi’s back, through the thinner material of Levi’s button-down. His other hand keeps rubbing circles on the side of Levi’s thigh. 

"Shit, you’re slow," Levi mutters. He twines his own arm around Eren’s neck, the one with blood drying under the nails, thinks about kissing Eren—realizes he’d have to stand up on his toes to do it, thinks about his dignity, and yanks Eren down into the kiss instead. His fingers splay on the back of Eren’s neck, lightly scratching up into Eren’s hairline.

It feels so much better. 


End file.
